Bewitched

I would never. I couldn’t, even if I tried, couldn’t bring myself to ruin you the way I’ve ruined me. What I want is to be the madness itself; to ravage you, tear you down and purge you of this disease you call sanity. I want to be the hint of depravity subtly veiled by the warm brown of your eyes. I want to be your obsession, one which drinks of you to quench it’s thirst. I want to be the one demon you never could exorcise, one that you try desperately but utterly in vain to rid yourself of. I want my existence to haunt you after I’m gone, long after this undying craving I have for all of you that is seared into my flesh and burned into my bones has wasted away, long after the memory of me is confined to our pictures and that matching tattoo on your arm. I want you, all of you, right down to your very soul. It’s there in all of us, you know, this madness that has bewitched me. It’s in your eyes, those deep, warm, mischievous browns that are pure enchantment to the one it beholds. It’s in your darned smile, that heartbreakingly perfect smile, one that you effortlessly pull up whenever, wherever. It’s in your mind, emblazoned, engraved, making it impossible for you to even pour it out. But you needn’t, love, you mustn’t try so hard to. It’s the magic your eyes reflect, the witchcraft your lips conjure. It’s what beckons me in light whispers, entices me with its treacherously taunting moans. It’s what suffuses through my blood, burns through my veins, filling all of me with you by bleeding me dry of me. It’s in this chaos you birth inside of me, this tornado that transpires consuming all of me whilst filling me, replete with you. It started out as a whirlwind, possessing every inch, died down to a slight whiff of a lone summer breeze that caresses your cheek ever so lightly in varied intervals leaving you begging for what it could be and what it was, all at the same time. It’s torturous, torment laid out bare, but beautifully real; the perfect illusion, damning the soul, dulling the senses. An imperfection so perfect, my bewitched perception shudders at its wake. If only this madness hadn’t swallowed me whole, if only the remanent sanity you salvage could purge my soul, I would wake up to your damned smile; I would wake up to you.